Emmeline. With Some Other Pieces.

Extracts from Journal.

1812.

======

The first entrance of England is far from
conveying favourable impressions. The
country is bleak and dreary. The road to
Belford is abominable.

You no sooner cross the boundary, than
you are sensibly in another kingdom.
Near neighbourhood and constant intercourse
have effected little intercommunity
of manners, language, or appearance. Before
you advance ten miles on English
ground, the women are prettier, the accent
is perceptibly English, and hats and
shoes are universal.

------

The southern part of Yorkshire is a very
lovely country. It is certainly too flat; and
to Scotch eyes the straight line which the
horizon presents is tiresome. But it is divided
into innumerable little fields, by
hedges in every possible variety of curve,
and composed of whatever can possibly enter
into the composition of a hedge. Oak,
crab, alder, elder, maple, hawthorn, briar,
honeysuckle, and a thousand flowering
weeds, all blending in unrestrained luxuriance!
The English seem to think their
hedges entitled to share in the national liberty;
for they ramble into every direction,
except a straight line, and straggle as
they list, without either confining or being
confined.

From Doncaster, which is a handsome
town, we turned off from the great road to
see the "Dukeries." Through these parks
we drove for nearly a stage; crawling up
and lumbering down steep hills, by the
vilest roads that ever were seen--for made
they are not. We saw nothing which I
would have gone a yard to see, except the
noble remains of Sherwood Forest. These
belong to Thoresby Park; they consist of
prodigious oaks, magnificent in decay, flourishing
vigorously in the branches, while
the trunks are generally hollow. From
Ollerton the country continues beautifully
swelling and woody to Newark, where we
again joined the great road.

At Greatham--a comfortable little inn,
where we were forced, by a tremendous
thunder-storm, to take shelter for the night
--I pointed out to the waiter a new parsonage,
which was building within half a mile
of the inn door, and asked him the name of
his parish minister. He did not know!!!
Intimate and affectionate relation between
pastor and flock!--We were well driven,
and by a good road, through Stamford to
Burleigh the magnificent! A noble--respectable
magnificence! Cecil had as good
a taste in houses as his mistress had in
prime ministers. Admirable pictures!--
A Magdalene, by Carlo Maratti; Domenichino's
mistress, by himself--loveliness
personified! Above all, the Salvator Mundi!
The features are taken from the letter
of Publius, describing the person of Christ
--a profusion of curled auburn hair divides
on the forehead, and falls to the shoulders.
The dark grey eyes are raised in benediction,
which the lips are half opened to pronounce--one
hand holds the sacramental
bread; the other is raised in the attitude
of devotion. On the table stands the brazen
plate, from whence the bread has been
lifted; and a cup filled with the emblematic
wine. These are the few simple objects
which the picture represents. But the magical
expression of the countenance! the
inimitable execution of every part! Such
benevolence--such sensibility--so divine--
so touching--cannot be conceived without
the soul of Carlo Dolce! How blest must
the creature have been whose fancy was
peopled with such images!

------

---- called to take us to an oratorio at Covent-Garden.
As we are nobody, he advised
us to go to the pit, that we might have
some chance of seeing and hearing. We
were no sooner placed, than the adjoining
seats were occupied by some very drunk
sailors, and their own true loves, whose expressions
of affection made it necessary to
change our quarters. The music was far
superior to any thing I had heard before.
But in such a place, and in such company,
the praise of God seemed almost blasphemy.
All went on peaceably enough, till it pleased
Braham, the most delightful singer that
ever sung, to sing a nonsensical song about
Lord Nelson. Although the words and
tune were equally despicable, the song was
encored; Braham was engaged elsewhere,
and went off without complying. The
next performer, Mrs Ashe, a sweet modest
looking creature, whose figure declared her
to be in no fit situation to bear fright or ill-usage,
tried to begin her song, but was
stopped by a tremendous outcry. She tried
it again and again, but not a note could be
heard, and she desisted. The Halleluiah
chorus was begun; but the people bawled,
and whistled, and hissed, and thumped, and
shrieked, and groaned, and hooted, and
made a thousand indescribable noises besides,
till they fairly drowned the organ,
the French horns, the kettle-drums, and--
the Halleluiah chorus! So I have seen Covent-Garden
and a row!
------

To-day, the charity children, to the number
of seven thousand, assembled in St
Paul's. They were all clothed in the uniform
of their several schools; and their
dress was quite new and clean; they were
placed on circular seats, rising above each
other, under the dome. The area in the
centre of the circle which they formed, and
the whole of the nave, were filled by many
thousand spectators. We had a full view
of them all; and indeed I have seen no
view so delightful in all London, as this
sight of 7,000 immortal beings, rescued by
the charity of their fellow-creatures from
ignorance and misery; nor have I heard
any music so noble as the burst of their
little voices, when the old 100th Psalm
rung in the mighty vault of St Paul's.
They too sung the Halleluiah chorus, with-
out any accompaniment but the organ.
What a contrast to Covent-Garden!

------

Went to Wilkie's Exhibition--the best
bestowed shilling I have spent in London!
Picture of a Sick Lady; the colouring is delightful;
a wonderful escape from spotting.
A Card-playing groupe--admirable!--So is
the Blind Fidler. An excellent Reckoning
Day; one of the figures is leaning across
the table, and evidently saying to the
steward, "I'll make the thing quite plain
to you." The steward is knitting his brows,
as much as to say, "It is not quite plain
yet." One sits gnawing the head of his
staff. Another is reckoning to himself on
his fingers. One groupe have closed their
accounts, and are stuffing at a side-table.
In general, each picture tells its own story
completely; the colouring is almost always
pleasing.

------

The Opera House does not strike me as
more splendid than Covent-Garden. Catalani
sung admirably, and Tramezzani is
an excellent actor. The dancing is more striking
for its agility than for its grace. Vestris
spins round on one foot an incredible
number of times; and he kicks out both
before and behind till his leg is perfectly
at right angles to his body.

But all this kicking and spinning cannot
please the sick! It is now near a fortnight
since all the pomps and novelties of
this world of wonders became nothing more
to me than the shadows that flit along the
walls of a prison. Every thing tires me
now!

------

At Woolwich we saw mountains of
balls, and thousands of cannon! We saw
the whole process of making ball-cartridges.
The balls are cast in a mould, two together,
connected by a bar of an inch or two
long; they are then cut asunder, close by
each ball, and the little bar is thrown back
into the melting-pot; then each ball is tied
in a rag; then in a paper cone, with room
left above it for powder. The powder is
run by measure into the cone, and the top
is fastened down; the cartridges are then
packed in small parcels, and the business
is finished. Each of these operations is
performed by a different hand, and with
dispatch almost incredible. One boy fills
4,000 cartridges in a day; little creatures,
who would scarcely be entrusted in Orkney
with the pastoral care of three geese,
earn eight or nine shillings a-week in this
way.

------

Charlton is most beautiful; it is almost
romantic. The house is very elegant; the
windows of a beautiful suite of rooms open
out upon a charming little lawn, shaven
like green velvet, and bounded in front by
an abrupt woody bank, which forms one
side of a deep and woody dell. The grounds
are sheltered in every direction by woods
of various kinds, through which there are
led walks, as retired as those in Highland
glens; yet every opening affords a glimpse
of the river, constantly alive with vessels
of all sizes, from the gaudy pleasure-boat
up to an Indiaman. Of all the places I
ever saw, considered merely as a place,
Charlton is that where I should chuse to
set up my rest.

------

Next day went to the Victualling-Office
at Deptford; where I should have thought
there was food enough for a nation. I
think they told us there were eight stores
of beef, one of which we saw, containing
16,000 casks, of three hundred weight each.
The baking of biscuits was going on with
astonishing speed; but, as it seemed to me,
with very bad success. One man kneaded,
another shaped, a third divided them, a
fourth laid them on a board, and a fifth
pushed them into the oven; withal they
are ill-shaped and worse fired; some are
burnt, and some are raw. This, however,
is a little equalized in the drying-rooms,
which are above pine-apple heat. In the
brew-house is a nice little steam-engine, by
which all the work is performed.

------

In Meux's Brewery every thing is as
filthy as steam and smoke, and dust and
rust can make it; except the steam engine,
which is as polished and as clean as the bars
of a drawing-room grate. The first operation
of this engine is to stir the malt in vats
of twenty-eight feet diameter, filled with
boiling water; the second is, in due time,
to raise the wort to the coolers, in the floor
above; then this wort is conveyed by leaden
pipes into the tub where it is to ferment,
and afterwards into the casks where the
porter is first deposited. One of these casks,
which I saw, measures seventy feet in diameter,
and is said to have cost £10,000;
the iron hoops on it weigh eighty tons; and
we were told that it actually contained,
when we saw it, 18,000 barrels, or £40,000
worth of porter. Another contained 16,000
barrels, and from thence to 4,000; there
are above seventy casks in the store.

From the top of the immense building,
which holds this vast apparatus, we had a
complete view of London and the adjacent
country. I must own, however, that I was
rejoiced to find myself once more safe in the
street. I believe, indeed, that I am, as Dr
Blair phrases it, "destined to creep through
the inferior walks of life;" for I never feel
myself in a very elevated situation, without
being seized with an universal tremor. I
shook in every limb for an hour after coming
down.

------

A long walk on Hampstead-heath with
----, who took leave of me very kindly.--
We drove to Vauxhall. No public amusement
in London has pleased me so much
--probably because it was entirely new to
me. There was no moon; and from total
darkness we at once entered a colonnade,
blazing with literally thousands of
lamps of every various colour; suspended
in the forms of festoons, stars, coronets,
and every else that is graceful and fantastic.
Some of the walks were in total darkness.
Others were lighted by a pavilion, or a pagoda,
or a temple of lamps, to which the
walk formed a vista. Several rooms and
colonnades contained boxes, retreating behind
a row of light pillars, twisted round
with wreaths of lamps. In each box was
laid a small table for supper. Bands of music
were stationed in different parts of the
garden; and English, Irish, Scotch, German,
and Turkish airs were performed by
musicians in the garb of each country.
Many thousands of well dressed people
were assembled in this gay scene. Upon
the whole, Vauxhall is the gayest raree
shew possible,--and no bad type of that
kind of pleasures,--glittering and bright
enough when not too closely examined;
but, when seen in fair day-light, mean,
worthless, and unsubstantial.

------

Nothing in the beautiful environs of
London is so beautiful as the view from
Richmond-hill. I do not at all wonder
that our Southern neighbours complain of
the scarcity of wood in Scotland. The country
seen from Richmond-hill is wooded, as
far as the eye can reach, like a gentleman's
park. All is, to be sure, nearly a dead
level. But the multitude of elegant houses,
--the richness of the woods,--and the
windings of the smooth Thames beneath
its flat turfy banks,--make the whole scene
resemble an immense pleasure ground, interspersed
with clumps, lawns, temples,
and artificial pieces of water. Perhaps my
national partialities deceive me, but, though
I must own we have no prospect so rich,
I think we have some infinitely more interesting.
There is no compensating for the
varied outline of our distant mountains--a
dead flat line in the horizon spoils any prospect
in my eyes.

------

Windsor occupies an eminence, or, as
they are pleased to call it in England, a hill.
It makes a very noble appearance, as it
rises above the woods with its banners floating
in the air. It is indeed the only royal
residence I have seen at all fit for a king.
The apartments are very handsome--and
the Hanoverian plate superb. There are
some very fine pictures. I was particularly
struck with two small ones by Carlo
Dolce--a Madonna--and a "Bearing the
cross." The first is finished exquisitely;
the face is lovely; and the drapery perfectly
graceful. The deep sorrow in the face
of the Saviour is wonderfully touching;
the hands are inimitable. These are in the
king's dressing closet. In the same room
is a beautiful sketch by Rubens. In the
king's drawing-room is a "Holy Family,"
the most interesting of any of Rubens' pictures
which I have seen. "Venus attired
by the Graces," by Guido, seems a masterpiece
of grace and nature. However, as
gentlemen are admitted to her Goddess-ship's
presence, I wish her tirewomen had
been a little more expeditious.

The apartments immediately over those
occupied by the king are shut up; nor is
any one allowed to walk beneath his windows.
We saw his private chapel, where
he was accustomed to attend regularly
every day with his family; but the good
man's seat has long been vacant, and it will
be long before his equal fill it.

From the top of the round tower there
is a very rich and extensive view; but, except
on the Eton side, still less interesting
than that from Richmond-hill.

From Windsor we went by Henley to
Oxford, through one of the loveliest countries
upon earth. The ground is actually
hilly. Every spot is cultivated, or richly
wooded; the fields bear fine crops, in spite
of farming vile beyond expression; and the
whole is clothed with the brightest verdure
imaginable. Nothing is more striking,
in a comparison of the two extremities
of the island, than the difference of
colour. Even our richest fields in Scotland
have either a brown or greyish cast;
and except upon a gentleman's lawn, the
verdure of English grass is never seen to
the north of Newcastle.

The approach to Oxford is very striking.
The spires are seen at a distance, mingling
with trees; which are fine, in spite of the
barbarous custom of lopping their lower
branches. As you enter the town, Magdalene
College is the first thing you see.
As you proceed along the High-street,
something new and grand presents itself
at every step; spires, domes, minarets, and
arches! I have seen no street of the same
length at all comparable to it for magnificence.
It bends a little, so that something
is always left to expectation.

We quickly procured a guide, who conducted
us to the Chapel of Magdalene.
One end of the Chapel contains a window,
painted in so elegant a design that I could
scarcely believe its antiquity. The side
windows in the choir are in the same style
of colouring; and unfortunately darken the
altar piece, a most glorious picture! It represents
the Saviour bending under his
cross; his temples bleeding with the thorns.
The attitude is a wonderful mixture of
grace and exhaustion; the countenance expresses
the noblest resignation. The drapery
is very fine; not frittered away in
small lights and shadows, but disposed in
grand broad folds. The colouring is harmoniously
sober,--the finishing is perfect,
--there is a tear upon the cheek,--a drop
of blood has trickled down to the neck,--
every muscle in the feet, every vein in the
hands, is perceptible.

The walks of Magdalene College are
shaded by tall trees, and lie along the banks
of the Charwell; a stream which will never
disturb the student's musings, either by its
noise or motion. Our guide told us that the
"walks were always cool, because of a pleasant
hair which came from the water." He
made us particularly notice, "Haddison's
walk,--the great poet as wrote the Spectators." * * *

The Radcliffe library is a very beautiful
rotunda, with a gallery running round it.
As to books, there are none except a few
medical ones. * * *

The Pomfret Marbles are old patched
remnants--bodies without heads, and heads
without bodies. Some of these scraps are
very fine, but most of them spoiled by modern
mending.

From the Marbles we went to the Theatre
--that is, the place where the disputations
are held. It is a room above eighty feet
long and above seventy broad; the largest
roof, we were told, in the kingdom, unsupported
by pillars. The roof is made of
square pieces of wood, all joined together
by screws and nuts. The room is said to
contain 5000 persons, which appears to me
incredible. There are galleries on three
sides. I am disappointed in the Theatre,
which is far inferior to the Radcliffe both
in magnificence and beauty. * * The gardens
of St John's are very pretty; and
kept, like every thing about Oxford, with
exemplary neatness.

Though I am absolutely tired of looking
at pictures, we went with new pleasure
to take a second view of the altar-piece of
Magdalene Chapel. Next to the Burleigh
Carlo Dolce, it is the most enchanting picture
I ever saw. I must not pretend to
judge, but, if it be a Guido, it is finished
in a manner differing from his ordinary
style. It seems to have roused the enthusiasm
of the woman who shews it. She
pointed out its beauties with the warmest
and most naif admiration. "Oh! Madam,"
she said to me with tears in her eyes,
"what do you think? I have shewn this
glorious picture for thirty years, and now
I must leave it. I buried my husband six
weeks ago; and the shewing of them things
is always given to men. But, thank God,
they cannot hinder me to see it in the time
of prayers." She was delighted with our admiration,
and positively refused a fee at
parting!!!

We returned to "the Angel," to dinner ;
and then left this most interesting and (if
I may except "mine own romantic town")
most beautiful city that ever I beheld.

The road to Woodstock is made interesting
by the retiring spires of Oxford.
Woodstock itself is a neat enough village,
peopled, as well as Blenheim, by a colony
of extortioners--their manufactures
of gloves and steel being only the tools of
this their real trade.

I was disappointed in the first coup d'oeil
of Blenheim. I had heard too much of it.
The water was full of weeds, betraying at
once its artificial origin. The poorest rill
that tosses untamed in its rocky channel,
or frets against the pebbles which it has
borne down from its hill, is less admirable
indeed, but more interesting, than an ocean
which we know to be confined by man's
devices. But Blenheim is intended to astonish,
not to interest. It is a huge splendid
show-box, made to be looked at, and only
to be looked at. The house is princely;
but the moment you enter it you perceive
that it is of no more use to the owner than
its picture would be. He may shew--but
he cannot live in it. In fact, a very small
part of it is in family use. The rest, for payment
of certain most unreasonable fees, is
at the service of the public. The entrance
hall is magnificent; and answers one's ideas
of splendour. The saloon too is superb, with
its fine marble portals. The library is very
splendid, with its pillars, pilasters, and
basement of marble; but it is ill proportioned;
and not very fully lighted. The
chapel is very well; with a princely monument
to "the Duke." The other apartments
are just well enough. There are
some fine pictures--particularly a large
collection of Rubens's. There is a fine
Rembrandt,--"Isaac blessing Jacob;" two
charming Beggar Boys by Murillo; and a
Madonna by Carlo Dolce, in his own manner
and his best manner, which is most
delightful. But one has no time to study
pictures at Blenheim. The servant rhymes
over their names, and drives you from one
to another, as if you could see a picture as
you see what's o'clock.

I need not chronicle the grandeur of
Blenheim, for we bought, of course, the
Blenheim Guide, where Dr Mavor has
made all the finery ten times finer. The
china gallery contains specimens of the progress
of porcelain for 2000 years. Costly, I
make no doubt,--every thing is so at Blenheim!--but
utterly void of beauty or interest
to me. I paid one half-crown to see
it; I would not give another for the whole
collection. In one of the attached offices is
the theatre; in another is the Titian gallery,
hung, I cannot say ornamented, with
pictures by that master. They represent
about a score of gods and goddesses, as large
as life and as ugly as sin. I wish, on the
other hand, that sin were always as naked
as they. Nobody could then be deceived
about its nature. * * The park is truly
fine. * *

Escaped from Woodstock; and, with
the very worst driving we have seen since
we left home, reached Stratford-on-Avon
before it was quite dark. Hurried to
Shakespeare's house--sat in his chair--saw
his bed-room--the room where he was
born! The walls are covered with the
names of such as wished to buy a part of
his immortality at a cheap rate. Part of
his furniture remains; but all is falling fast
to decay.

Next morning we went by an admirable
road, through a pretty country, to Warwick.
Warwick has been a fortified town.
It has still a portcullis and tower at each
end. It is clean, handsome, and remarkably
well paved. The avenue to the castle
is strikingly appropriate. It is a winding
road cut through the solid rock, which
rises on each side to the height of 12 or
15 feet, and is crowned with ivy and tangled
shrubs. The great court of the castle
is admirable. Here is nothing that calls
you to admire with the arrogance of upstart
finery; but there is a magnificence
more touching than splendour--the sober
dignity of baronial pomp softened by the
hand of time into something between beauty
and sublimity. The stately towers and
battlements, unshaken by the storms of
ages, are here and there gracefully shrouded
in ivy. There is a reality--a consistency--an
air of nature, I may say, in the
majesty of Warwick, which gives it a most
interesting charm. To this charm the
Prince of Wales alluded very happily,
when he said to some one who compared
Warwick with Blenheim, "We can build
a Blenheim." Three sides of the court are
surrounded by the buildings connected
with the castle. The fourth is occupied
by what has once been a fortified embankment;
but is now thickly covered with
trees, evergreens, and flowering shrubs.
Close under the walls of the castle flows
the Avon, which is here a very beautiful
stream; and from some of the Gothic windows
there is a most appropriate view of the
ruined arches of a bridge, which was once
commanded by the fortress.

The entrance-hall of Warwick is not so
superb as that of Blenheim; but it is more
unaffected. It is characteristically ornamented
with arms, furs of animals, and
antlers of the Moose Deer. It is lined
with oak; and is, as well as the very long
and noble suite of apartments into which
it opens, finished in the style of Harry
VII's time. One of the largest rooms in
the house is pannelled with carved cedar.

The gardens are fine and extensive.
The dressed ground commands beautiful
glimpses of the park and the adjacent country.
In the Conservatory is the superb
Warwick Vase. It was found in Herculaneum,
and has been transported without
any injury. It is made from one block of
pure white marble; the carving is in alto
relievo, and as fresh as if it had been cut
yesterday. We were told that it contains
120 gallons. * * *

Our journey from London to Harrogate
has, upon the whole, been most delightful.

This presentation of Emmeline. With Some Other Pieces., by Mary Brunton
is Copyright 2003 by P.J. LaBrocca.
It may not be copied, duplicated,
stored or transmitted in any form without written permission.
The text is in the public domain.